Outside a church in a small town in Michigan stands a 15 foot wooden cross. Brooke was cleaning inside the church with her 5-year-old son, Alex, when the lights went out. “It was deadly still outside. The air was thick and had a strange smell to it. The clouds were now a dark gray and the sky behind them an eerie crayon green, casting down a steady shadow of the same color over everything she could see.”
The thunder rolled closer, getting louder. Lightning striking down, lighting up the church for an instant. Brooke glanced outside to see a reddish-orange flash followed by thunder so loud it shook the church.
The storm was over as fast as it came. Brooke and Alex stepped outside to see Pastor Jim on his knees in front of the cross. Lightning had struck it in two, the upper section lying in a puddle on the lawn.
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